


In the Arms of the Ever(pink?) Tree

by Rueitae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, Love Confessions, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Pilot Lance (Voltron), Post-Canon, Snowball Fight, Thirsty Pidge, all other pidge ships too lets do this, and our girl's face was up against the glass and blushing bad, and that pod suit was tight, pls plance fandom lets make this a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: Pidge is under the impression Lance is using dinner as a way to get her out of the office. Turns out that's only part of it.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: Plance Secret Santa 2020





	In the Arms of the Ever(pink?) Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Time_is_fading](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Time_is_fading/gifts).



> This is my Plance Secret Santa gift for Time-Is-Fading! I made it about as fluffy as I could! I hope you like it!
> 
> (Thank you for the beta, Lee! It's even better thanks to you!)

“Hey, Dr. Holt,” greets the suave, scintillating voice far too close to her ear for comfort. The kind that makes her shiver with fear or  _ one _ that ignites the fire of passion in her belly.

Pidge jumps out of her office chair, squawking in surprise. Almost as soon as she’s on her feet, she spins to the speaker with teeth bared, brandishing the green bayard threateningly before her.

She drops her arms limply when she sees Lance’s terrified face and rigid posture between her and the open office door, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Sorry! Please don’t electrocute me!” he yelps.

At her will, the green bayard disengages and she sets it blindly down on her work desk among the various blueprints and prototypes for components of the Defenders Project. Her heart skips a beat. Lance showing up at her office isn’t a new occurrence by any means, particularly unannounced such as today. Yet his greeting is...unorthodox. 

Pidge raises an eyebrow, tapping the heads up display on her glasses to run a diagnostic. One can never be too careful about clones. “You never call me Dr. Holt,” she says suspiciously. “That’s my dad.” After a moment, she continues, “And my mom and my brother.”

Lance drops his arms, his face something between incredulous and resigned. “And you too,” he says before brightening considerably. “Can’t I congratulate a friend?”

Rolling her eyes, Pidge slides back into her chair, continuing to face her guest. “I mean, if I had gone to university for a decade and successfully defended a thesis like my parents did, sure,” she concedes. “All I did was save the universe.”

It’s Matt’s fault, in the end. After he couldn’t get “Rebel Leader” to catch on post-war, he settled on Dr. Holt while helping her with the Defenders Project and everyone just assumed the same title for her, being head of the project. The title of Paladin didn’t really fit Pidge, or the others, anymore with the Lions no longer around. And no one on Earth really, truly understood Voltron’s significance like the rest of the universe, anyway. For them, it showed up and saved Earth out of nowhere. For the rest of the universe, it had always been a child’s tale, a glimmer of hope once thought lost, but it had  _ history _ . The title of Paladin just didn’t carry the same weight as the traditional doctorate did here.

So Dr. Holt it is, at least on Earth. Nevermind she didn’t have the degree to show for it. 

“Just that,” Lance snorts, rolling his eyes.

Pidge leans into the left armrest. “Are you just here to congratulate me or are you kidnapping me for dinner?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he used the excuse to get her out of the office. Time is far too easy to lose track of when she’s engrossed in her work.

The flush of pink on Lance’s cheek is almost worth it but for the pang of pining in her own heart. He’s here now, making an effort to lend his skills to the new Galactic Alliance, she shouldn’t tease him too hard right away. 

“Well,” Lance begins, though his gaze wanders over to her shelves against the far wall, filled with technical manuals of all manner of ships and vehicles past and present. “I saw your request to get the new cargo shuttles some practice miles under their engines before going into commercial use, so,” he rubs the back of his neck, a little uncharacteristically nervous, “I guess I’m volunteering?” he finishes, a hopeful look in his eyes as he meets her gaze again. 

Like a stuck process running in the background of her computer, Pidge’s brain breaks. “Wait, wait,” she pauses. “Let me get this straight. You, Mr. Fighter Class, Mr. Tailor, want to break in the cargo ships?”

Lance bristles like an agitated cat. “It’s not like this is permanent,” he stresses, crossing his arms across his chest in a pout. “I just want to help you out, is all! Besides, I’m a  _ test  _ pilot, it’s literally my job anyway!”

Warm pulses emanate from her rapidly beating heart and burst into her cheeks. The gesture is completely unnecessary from him, he’s not even on the official pilot roster yet, but no one will object to a former Paladin of Voltron taking a cargo ship for a spin. 

“Thanks,” she finally says, quietly, as she comes out of her stupor. Lance’s shoulders sag in relaxation, his frown wiggling into a soft smile.

It takes all of Pidge’s willpower not to grasp her hand over her heart, it will prove a vain attempt to stop it from fluttering about in her rib cage. Pidge grew up as a Paladin of Voltron, and all across the universe she had teachers. None of them had much advice about what to do about harboring a crush on her friend, her crewmate, one whom she literally shared a mind with on several occasions. 

She owes Lance more than she can give for being her friend, for reaching out to her when she needed it most during their student days here at the Galaxy Garrison. He deserves to know she loves it when he preens with false bravado for the kids, playing up the Paladin act with a grace and poise that makes him almost unrecognizable from the bumbling, skinny beanpole she’d first met him as. He needs to know that it’s his effortless, selfless nature, that when he doesn’t try, is when he is most charming. 

Also...it’s been a while since they’ve shared a locker room, and she’d seen his change gradually, but her eyes can’t help but wander to the protruding ridges of his not-so-loose civilian shirt. 

There is much about Lance she is thankful for. 

Lance coughs politely, smile turning nervous. For what, Pidge can’t even imagine. They are Paladins of Voltron, part of an exclusive club, as close as friends can possibly be. There’s no reason they should be nervous around each other. But, as Pidge’s heart is stuck in her throat waiting for him to speak, her brain betrays her.

Is he… does he have these same feelings for her that she carries for him? 

“So, I haven’t had a chance to read up on the specs,” Lance admits. “You wanna come with me?”

For her famous sharp tongue and intellect, all Pidge can sputter is, “what? Lance, I can’t. I’m busy.”

Lance stiffins. “but this  _ is  _ for work!” Once that’s out, his mouth tugs into that playful smirk that drives her head into spinning. “We haven’t hung out in a long time, Pidge. Come on.”

Hang out. Just her and Lance, as friends. 

But as she agrees, her afternoon certainly reschedulable in the interest of testing cargo ships, Pidge wonders if she’d rather have had him say this was a date.

~~~~~~

“So, how’s it run?” Pidge asks Lance. She sits in the passenger’s seat, keeping close notes on each reading from the shuttle. 

Lance pulls back on the throttle with a wide grin, easing them out of the wormhole jump with such practiced ease. It’s no surprise, Pidge engineered them to fly like the Lions. 

“She flies so smooth, Pidge. You really outdid yourself.”

Pidge can’t help the heat that rushes to her cheeks at the praise. “No cloaking yet,” she jokes. There’s no way she’s putting cloaking on cargo shuttles. 

...actually, now that she thinks about it, why shouldn’t she?

“Well, it's perfect in my book,” Lance confirms. 

Pidge smiles. She had no doubt he’d love it, but it still feels good to  _ hear  _ it from him. There’s nothing she’d love more than to watch Lance’s flight routine, but her eyes are drawn like a magnet to open space before them, her love and fascination with the beauty of space unchanged from when she was a child. The stars are so clear, and planets in the Pneuton System dot the near space with brilliant spheres of white, green, and blue orbs. 

“Okay, Captain, where to?” she teases. “You were the one who wanted to ‘hang out’.”

Lance’s smirk is her only warning before he pushes the throttle all the way forward, sending the shuttle into a nosedive towards the closest of the moons. Pidge can’t help but scream in surprise. 

“What are you doing?” she yelps, gripping the armrests as if her life depended on it, datapad lost to the floor. There’s no doubt in her mind that Lance is in control, but not knowing what is going  _ on _ in his mind does little to comfort her. What is he trying to pull here?

His confidence never wavers, shoulders hunched forward in wild anticipation as they break the moon’s atmosphere. “Putting this thing through a proper test!” Pidge gets her concrete answer as they approach an icy stone archway, immediately sending her back to so many failed simulator runs. 

“Don’t you dare!” she squawks. 

For a heartbeat, Lance breaks his manic tailor persona and gives her the most reassuring smile. Before he even speaks, her heart and mind is at peace. The Red Paladin of Voltron knows what he’s doing. “You’re going to be okay, Pidge. I promise.”

His attention is back on flying, and he perfectly times flipping the shuttle to its side and threading the shuttle through the archway like a needle and thread. The shuttle turns on a dime and Lance activates the boosters to slow their descent, landing them in a snow-covered clearing among fully leafed pink-tinted trees. 

Pidge clutches her heart and adjusts her askew glasses when the shuttle comes to a stop. “You did it,” she whispers in awe. 

Lance turns off the ignition. Rather than proud of his accomplishment, he looks...relieved. “She handles like a charm, Pidge.” Then he looks at her, like he isn’t talking about the shuttle anymore. “Puts up with my antics and everything.”

Throat dry and unable to speak, Pidge knows she stares like a deer in headlights. Though her fingers are sore from typing all day, Pidge catches them inexplicably moving for Lance’s armrest, as if she expects his hand to be outstretched waiting for hers like-

She pulls it away and stands, remarking hastily as she walks out of the cockpit and into the cargo space behind them, “I’m going to do a post-flight check.”

New leather seats crinkle and squeak as Lance gets up behind her. “I’ll help,” he offers. “It’ll take half the time with two of us.”

Pidge slides open the side door to come face to face with a winter wonderland. The scenery on this moon wouldn’t look out of place in a winter holiday painting, with evergreens (or would that be everpinks?) as far as the eye can see, all touched with pristine snow that covers the landscape. Snowflakes fall gently out of the sky. Her glasses don’t detect anything harmful for humans, so she jumps down into the snow and shivers, huddling hands into her labcoat pockets. 

“If I’d know we’d be coming here, I would have packed a winter jacket,” Pidge complains. 

Lance has the audacity to laugh as he jumps down next to her. “I expected better of you, Pidge. I thought your family had a cabin in the mountains?”

She glares at him, though after the initial chill, it's not  _ that  _ bad. “Yeah, and we never go when it's cold. You grew up on a tropical  _ island _ , how are you even dealing with this?”

He gives her one of those ridiculous smirks, like he has something up his sleeve. “I never had snow  _ ever  _ in my life. This is a novelty,” he answers. Squatting, he gathers up some of the snow in his hands, testing out its weight as if it were a weapon. “Not too different from squishy asteroids.”

Something clicks in Pidge’s brain, but before she can fully replay the memory of discovering the Olkari distress signal, Lance has plopped the ball of snow on top of her head, a playful smile etched across his face. 

“Oh,” Pidge says neutrally before a smirk grows on her face. He wants a snowball fight. “Oh, it is  _ on _ .”

Lance is already building more ammunition, so Pidge dips her fingers into the snow and splashes it his way. A wave of powdery dust falls gracefully on him while he turns to shield his eyes, but he’s laughing the whole time. 

Pidge rounds the shuttle, seeking shelter to make her own snowballs. Most of them crumble apart, it isn’t the wet, sticky snow needed for most wintery fun, but considering it's Pidge’s first snowball fight, she’s glad to take what she can get. And Lance has to run around the shuttle to get to her, the snowballs won’t survive a throw over top of it. 

It feels good to take a break and feel like a normal human again. 

A thump hits her head and snow falls daintily around her.

“Gotta watch your six, Pidge!” Lance teases from atop the shuttle. He’s got more snow in his arms and only with the grace and agility of Paladin training does she dodge the next barrage. 

How could she get him back when he’s got the high ground? Her eyes scan the landscape. All she has to work with are trees, trees, and...more  _ snow covered _ trees. 

“You win this round, Tailor!” she jeers back with all the certainty that she is going to win this contest. “But the war is far from over!”

She books it towards the nearest tree, socks growing more soaked, chilling her knees, but Pidge hardly cares right now in the heat of battle and is pleased to see that the branches sag from the weight of what snow is on its branches. 

Once past the tree, she turns to see Lance gaining on her. Pidge smirks. His long strides will be his downfall when he can’t stop. 

“You might be the nature Paladin, but you can’t hide in this forest!” he crows.

Right before he enters the shadow of the towering tree, Pidge reaches for her bayard and shoots the grappling hook at the trunk. The impact causes the tree to shake. And in one glorious moment as Lance looks up with wide eyes to see, all its snow lands on top of him.

Pidge smirks and holsters the bayard. “Conceed?”

Lance, waist deep in snow, chuckles, shaking the small pile out of his hair. “I should have guessed a genius would pull something crazy like this. You win, Pidge.”

It’s hard to feel cold when Lance continues to warm her heart with casual, but meaningful praise. He’s always done that, in his own way, even back at the Garrison when she got top marks in everything he gaped with awe. When she announced her ability to cloak Voltron, she’d been fishing for her brother’s praise, something that always made her smile. But Lance...he did too, without prompting. And hearing it from him, and with the ease he’d spoken it, had sent her heart fluttering in ways she had never imagined. 

She loves him still. Why was it so easy for him to worm his way into her heart? He always meant it as friendship, she knows that. It’s her own stupid heart for allowing it to be something in addition to that. 

“You’re soaked,” she says as she walks through the pile towards him, mildly concerned they’ll both catch a cold at this point. “We’d better get back home and dry off.”

Lance trudges out from under the tree now devoid of snowy decoration. Pidge reaches out and grabs his hand to pull him out. They both yelp as momentum carries Lance forward and Pidge’s nose runs into his rock hard abs. Pidge is sure she’s blushing hard enough to melt all the snow around them as she stumbles back into the truck of a nearby tree, taking Lance with her by the shoulders. 

When Pidge looks up, she does so to Lance’s face inches from her own. He braces his palms against the trunk, a clear attempt not to fall into her. The blush and alarm on his face is unmistakable. 

Pidge is almost disappointed when he pushes off and stammers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“G-gravity takes no prisoners,” she says lamely. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re out of the snow.”

“Right, me too,” Lance says carefully. 

Lance is a good friend and as far as she’s concerned, family. Standing with him, both wet from melted snow, underneath a tree on an alien moon among a picture perfect winter scene, shouldn’t be weird. And it's not weird, exactly. It’s only weird because she is making it weird.

Because it feels very  _ romantic _ . 

Her heart wants nothing more than for that to be true, but long ago she’d settled for staying as friends. Because having him near is more important to her than any romantic attraction she has for him. 

Lance meets her gaze, and is strangely silent, for him at least, and feels as if he is trying to puzzle her out. Inhaling deeply, he breaks contact and looks up.

“So, I have a confession to make,” he admits ashamedly, and Pidge swears her heart stalls. “Rachel wants to deck the Garrison out for Christmas this year, you know, since it's the first one since...everything and she wants to help cheer up Mom and everyone else. So..I might have asked for the shuttle so I could check this place out for ideas.”

Pidge deflates like a balloon, helium wheezing out in disappointment. “Oh,” she responds. “Well, this place is beautiful, she’s sure to get some good ideas.”

“And you fit perfectly in it,” he continues softly, his eyes glimmering with...dare she think, love. Pidge isn’t sure her heart is going to be able to take anymore of this rollercoaster. 

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me over the last several months,” he says. “The more we’re together at work or playing video games, the more I realize what I want out of life.”

His hand shakes, from the cold or nerves Pidge isn’t sure. Before she realizes what she’s doing, she takes the closest one and sandwiches it between both of hers. 

“I just returned the favor,” Pidge tells him, an easy smile on her face. “You have done so much for me, Lance. If not for you, I would have lost myself looking for Dad and Matt.” She squeezes his hand. “Ever since our student days at the Garrison, you’ve had a special place in my heart. Our time together as Paladins never changed that, I just grew to love you more.”

She’d said it. There’s no turning back now.

The lump in Lance’s throat bobs as he swallows, eyes filled with shock while he must consider her words. But Pidge isn’t fearful, not when he’s already tipped his hand. If he feels ready, so does she. 

“Um, I ah, thought this would take more convincing.”

Pidge’s jaw drops. A rejection or confirmation, but an ambiguously neutral statement and… “Wait, you  _ planned _ this?”

“It’s no sunset,” he admits, “but it's quiet and the shuttles needed a test. We’ve...we’ve both been kinda awkward and fidgety around each other lately and I just…”

“Needed to know,” Pidge finishes with bated breath.

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “I know I love you, Pidge, no matter what form our relationship takes.”

Her heart glows in euphoria. It feels so good to hear the words from his lips, towards her. 

But now her brain stalls, thinking the probability of him returning her affections so low she’d not made a contingency for it. So he turns to humor. “Is this the part where we’re supposed to kiss?” she jokes. Her body betrays her words, pulling Lance closer towards her and inwardly wanting just that

“Well,” Lance says with a grin. “I did pick this moon for a reason.”

Pidge follows his gaze upwards, to the branches of the trees, where small, blue berries lie among beds of pink leaves. She can’t help a laugh as he plucks a cluster. “You brought me to a place full of alien mistletoe?”

“Rachel gets what Rachel wants,” he follows up with a chuckle. Pidge feels like a space heater as he gently pushes her hair back behind her ear, tucking the mistletoe behind it like a hair clip. "I wasn't going to say anything if you didn't want it."

With a deep breath to settle her own nerves, she grabs hold of his soggy jacket, getting ready to lean in. There's no need to clarify what he means that she might not want. “From now on, all you have to do is ask if you want to kiss me," she answers him so there is no room for misunderstanding. "No need for alien mistletoe.”

It’s surreal when Lance’s lips descend towards hers, but all awkwardness is forgotten when lips meet. Pidge focuses on how tightly he holds onto her clothing, immediately aware she does the same to his. It feels like a hug, warm and safe, but there’s an added level of devotion she feels when Lance kisses her, like a promise.

An ill-timed gust interrupts the moment. Pidge breaks the kiss and she watches Lance shiver as she does. 

“Okay, maybe continue this in the shuttle?” she proposes. Where it's warmer and they can hop through the wormhole for a change of clothes.

Lance nods furiously in agreement. “Maybe I didn’t think this through enough.”

It’s as they are walking swiftly back to the shuttle, Pidge’s mind churning with ideas to keep from thinking about how cold she is, that she realizes just how dark it has become. The sun has set, but the clouds have moved out and the stars shine reflected light onto the snowscape. Though the shuttle is in the near distance, she can hardly make out its shadow amid pristine snow ruined by the antics of her and Lance. A glimmer of green catches her eye, and looking up, she gasps, smiling as wide as is possible.

“Aurora Borealis!” she exclaims, removing a hand from her arm to point upwards. 

Lance’s head immediately snaps to where she points. Though the Northern Lights (which will need a new name as they aren’t on Earth) are gorgeous as the greens and pinks dance across the sky, Pidge finds focus on Lance’s eyes. They sparkle with the same wonder and amazement one would expect from a child. It warms Pidge’s heart that even after all the spectacular things they’ve seen as Paladins, something as familiar and beautiful as this brings him joy. 

They’re both still the same kids who fell in love with space. It brought them together and kept them close through these years. 

The presence of the lights kind of feels like a celebration of all they’ve accomplished so far, both as Paladins and as people.

Pidge reaches for Lance’s hand, entwining her fingers into his and squeezing tight. This is a good moment, the beginning of something shiny and new for the both of them and Pidge wants to soak it in.

But as she squeezes she can’t feel Lance’s hand. A gust chills her snow-laden clothes and reminds her that they walk back to the shuttle for a reason.

Lance shivers comedically from head to toe, teeth clacking together. Pidge hears her own teeth chatter through her ears. Her gaze meets steely blue and desperate eyes.

She resists the urge to lick her lips. 

In a reverse from that day at the Space Mall, Lance takes her hand and drags her forward. “C’mon,” he says, “I’ve got an idea. Promise this one won’t leave us out in the cold.”

As soon as they are in the shuttle, Lance turns the heat on high. The blast of warm air like the desert surrounding the Garrison is a balm to her near frostbitten fingers. 

“Oh that’s much better,” she sighs, shoulders slumping in relief. “It’ll be even better to stand in the hot shower once I get home.”

“In a hurry to leave already?” Lance teases lightly, the chatter in his voice near gone. 

Pidge opens her sleepy eyes to see Lance holding up a checkered blanket, a basket full of containers next to his feet. He whips the blanket out to smooth it over before letting it lie on the floor of the shuttle. 

A bemused chuckle escapes her mouth over it all. “You kidnapped me for a picnic dinner after all? How romantic.”

He flashes a confident grin her way. “Even if we hadn’t kissed, food is always good. It’s Hunk’s.”

Saliva builds in her mouth at just the thought of Hunk’s cooking so nearby, her stomach growling on cue. “Where’s the spork?” she asks, striding his way. 

The shuttle is thoroughly heated by the time Pidge is half finished with her burrito. Lance opens the bay door, and as it descends, the majestic light show is all theirs to enjoy.

“It’s still a little chilly with the door open,” Lance says after a while. “You’ve gotta be cold with short sleeves.”

She sees through his act a mile away and he doesn’t even bother to hide it as he lifts his arm and shows off his massive wingspan, the space beneath reserved just for her, her shoulder soon to be a resting spot for his hand. 

In one swift moment, Pidge realizes she doesn’t care. Scooting closer and curled up against Lance’s body, his arm wrapping around her, snuggles in, embracing her inner voice that appreciates all the cliche gestures because it’s  _ Lance _ and he is honest and earnest. 

Pidge hums contentedly. She knows that they’ll have to return soon; they both work tomorrow, but for now it's nice to sit here and dream of the future. One where she wakes up to his face every more, and gets to enjoy all of his goofy shenanigans she misses when they go to their separate homes at night. Holidays will be all the brighter with both their families and one day… well, maybe Chip will get to be a big brother.

Before all that though, they get to relish in the dating period. “We keep this a secret until the Garrison party,” she says with a grin. 

Lance lights up, a wicked grin across his face. “Everyone will laugh when we  _ accidentally  _ meet under the mistletoe? Pidge, you’re not just a genius, you’re an  _ evil  _ genius.”

A partner in crime, someone who knows what she’s gone through, an unwavering support. Things Pidge is willing and wants to give back in equal and abounding measure. 

Yes, Pidge thinks that this is what she wants with the rest of her life too.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/)! Please leave a comment if you liked it! I'm anxious to know your favorite part(s)!


End file.
